


Dreaming of You

by orphan_account



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Breakfast, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Dreams, Fluff and Angst, Husbands, Kissing, M/M, OR IS IT, au where clover survives, bad luck charm plays in the distance, i make qrow suffer because i'm evil, luck puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Qrow never thought he would get a happy ending.Maybe he was correct.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	Dreaming of You

Qrow wakes up to the smell of pancakes drifting through his nostrils. It’s not the worst thing he could wake up to, so he lets his mouth twist into a small smile and rolls over in the double bed, his arm flopping over the now vacant spot beside him.

“Qrow?” a soft voice calls from the door, “breakfast is nearly ready.”

“Mm five more minutes, Cloves,” Qrow says, cracking open an eye only to be flooded with an intense burst of light. He immediately snaps it shut again and shoves his face into the pillow next to him. It still smells of his husband and he inhales the scent deeply, like a desperate man. It’s kind of pathetic, he thinks, but he can’t bring himself to care all too much.

“I don’t think so, old bird, you’ve got work today. Plus, I need you home early because team RWBY are coming for dinner and you’ve left coffee mugs all over the lounge,” Clover complains.

Qrow rolls his eyes, which is quite a feat, considering they’re still closed. Still, he’s pretty sure Clover gets the message because the next thing he knows, the bed dips down next to him and two large, familiar hands are massaging his back.

“Come on, you big grump. I even made you coffee,” Clover sighs. Qrow cracks his eye open again, this time greeted with a far more pleasant view than the too-bright morning sun. Clover is smiling down at him, his hair still messy and un-styled and an apron that reads ‘Kiss the Cook’ tied around his waist.

“Coffee?” Qrow croaks. Clover smirks and nods which is what has Qrow finally releasing his early morning grudge. He rolls back onto his back and sits up, finally opening both eyes to fully observe his husband in all his crack-of-dawn cheerfulness. “Okay, I’m up.”

“Knew that would get you,” Clover smirks, brushing his hand through the small hairs dangling in Qrow’s face.

“Lucky guess,” the older huntsman disagrees, dragging a laugh out of the other. Clover’s face settles into a soft smile as the two take a moment to gaze at each other. Qrow knows it’s ridiculously sappy, but Clover’s always been a romantic, and who’s Qrow to deny a man his desires, especially when he’s so nice to look at, anyway?

“Well, come on, then,” Qrow finally breaks the silence, “there’s coffee waiting to be drank.”

Clover gets to his feet and offers a hand out a hand to Qrow. He accepts it and doesn’t release it even once he’s on his feet. He’ll probably never express it out loud, but Clover’s hands make him feel safe- like there’s finally someone there to protect him after he’s spent his whole life trying to protect everyone else around him. Qrow would never let his hands go if the choice was his.

The two find their way to their small kitchen where Clover has laid out two plates of pancakes accompanied by a black coffee and an overly sugary caffeinated drink piled up with cream on top. Qrow grimaces at the two cups.

“How you drink it like that is beyond me,” he complains. Clover shrugs and releases Qrow’s hand so he can take a seat. Qrow follows suit.

“It gives me the caffeine I need for the day, what more do I need?” Clover queries.

“A good taste?” Qrow points out, picking up his own highly-sugared coffee and trying hard not to get the cream on his nose. From the snort his actions elicit from Clover, Qrow figures he wasn’t too successful.

Qrow sends Clover a small glare before digging in to his pancakes. Clover tactfully avoids his gaze and continues sipping his vile black coffee. Looking at them, Qrow supposes anyone would believe he was the one who adored black coffee, especially considering his previous drinking habits, but the taste is far too bland. Sugared drinks give him both the caffeine he needs and the morning sweetness he possibly requires even more.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?” Clover asks.

“I’ve been assigned to Winter’s teams keeping Grimm away from the construction site. As if I needed the Ice Queen bossing me around all day,” Qrow complains with a roll of his eyes. Clover huffs a laugh.

“When are you two ever going to let go of your preschool grudge?” he shakes his head. Qrow shrugs, taking another sip of sweet coffee.

“If I have any say in it, never,” he admits, “have they not got you on the construction today?”

Clover shakes his head, “I’m away from Beacon today- I’m doing diplomatic trips to Atlas. We need more supplies from them. They still refuse to cooperate with the rebuilding of Beacon until we rebuild Atlas.”

“People are stupid,” Qrow decides. Clover shrugs his shoulders with a smile.

“Not all of them,” he says, “your nieces are doing a pretty good job in the field.”

“I always knew they would,” Qrow smiles, “those girls have taught me a lot.”

“Here, here. Sometimes adults forgot that valuable lessons can be learnt from the youth,” Clover agrees. Qrow smirks and stands up, collecting their empty plates and cups and taking them over to the sink.

“Occasionally, I even learn things from you,” he teases. Clover sidles up behind him and pouts.

“I’m not that much younger than you,” he complains, jabbing his fingers into Qrow’s sides and causing the older man to jump. Qrow turns around from the sink and raises a challenging eyebrow at his husband.

“Back in my day, I treated my elders with a bit more respect,” Qrow mocks. Clover’s eyes flash darker and he smirks devilishly. Qrow feels his heart stutter in his chest and curses himself for being so easy.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Clover growls. Qrow, for once, complies very easily as Clover attaches his lips to his, placing his hands firmly on the sink behind Qrow’s back so that he can push the shorter man against the basin.

A soft groan rises to the top of Qrow’s throat as Clover tugs gently at his lower lip, sliding one hand from the sink to the small of his back and up to the base of head. Qrow smiles into the kiss as he tugs at Clover’s apron. He’s been deliberately ignoring its instructions, aware of how frustrated it would make Clover- he only wears the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron when he means it.

“You’re such a tease,” Clover gasps against Qrow’s mouth. Qrow fastens their lips together again, fiercely, before replying.

“That so? What're you gonna do about it?”

“Right now?” Clover sighs, pressing soft kisses to Qrow’s jaw, “nothing.”

Before Qrow can register what’s happening, Clover pulls away completely.

“We’re both going to be late for work if we stay here all day,” he continues.

“I’m not opposed,” Qrow shrugs. Clover shoots him a withering look.

“Go get dressed for work. I’ll see you tonight,” he instructs.

“Now who’s the tease,” Qrow mumbles under his breath as he heads out of the kitchen to heed Clover’s instructions- he really does need to head to work, as much as he’d rather not.

“I heard that!’ Clover shouts after him. Qrow chuckles and gets ready as swiftly as possible, grabbing Harbinger from the corner of the room before he leaves.

“Make sure you’re not late home, okay?” Clover reminds Qrow as he meets him by the front door, already buttoning up his sleeveless jacket.

“Blame Winter if I am,” Qrow says. Clover sighs at him and cups his face to kiss him again, swiftly.

“See you tonight. Have a good day. I love you!” Clover smiles when they part. Qrow shakes his head fondly at the other man’s usual goodbye.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Don’t get eaten by Grimm whilst I’m gone,” he replies, opening the door. Clover gives him one last salute before Qrow steps outside. His foot falls onto the floor and instead of the solid path he should feel underneath him, he feels… snow.

Qrow turns around and their house is gone, replaced by endless stretches of snow. His breathing rate has increased exponentially and when he looks back down at the snow, he sees droplets of red. There’s a whirring sound from the sky and he can hear a distant maniacal laugh that is disturbingly familiar.

It’s Tyrian’s laugh.

Harbinger is still in his hand but it’s coated in blood. He knows whose blood. Qrow doesn’t want to turn around when he hears footsteps and a thud behind him, followed by a pained groan.

He can’t just ignore him, though. He never would be able to.

Qrow lets Harbinger fall into the snow and then he is running- running towards Clover Ebi’s dying body. The blood contrasts so harshly with the pristine snow, staining it dark crimson. There’s so much of it- too much of it.

“Someone had to take the fall,” Clover says and Qrow knows he’s right but not him, not like this, never like this.

“James will take the fall. I’ll make sure of it,” is what he actually says. Clover’s looking at him with the same fond eyes he always has. In this timeline, Qrow never gets to ask what it means, only hope. It’s a futile hope now, anyway.

Clover struggles to smile and takes in a breath.

“Good luck,” he says softly, and they’re the last words Qrow will ever hear him say, and it’s the last breath Qrow will ever see him take, and it’s the last jolt of life Qrow will ever feel go through his body.

Clover Ebi’s eyes go dull right in front of Qrow’s own. Qrow doesn’t care about the Atlas ship approaching them. He screams and wails and cries over a friend he’d only just gotten to know, over the one piece of good luck that’s ever waltzed into his life, over a confidant and a crush and someone he thought he had finally met his match in.

He is broken again.

Qrow’s eyes snap open and the first thing he notices is the feeling of cold metal underneath his head. He’s still locked up in Atlas. He should probably do something about that- he promised Clover he would- but he still feels too numb.

The second thing Qrow notices is the feeling of cold metal underneath his fingers. A metal badge with a four-leaf clover engraved on it is digging into his hand so hard that it hurts. He clutches it tighter- it’s the only thing he has to remember Clover by.

Qrow thinks he might wear it. Maybe it can be his lucky charm now that his old one is gone. Dead.

It still feels a bit too soon, though. A bit too sore.

There’s no sound in the cell. Or anywhere. Qrow closes his eyes again. He’s still so tired.

Maybe, if he’s lucky for once, another dream will come his way. Maybe, if he’s as unlucky as usual, one will, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I heard through the grapevine that it was Fair Game week and I miss these two a lot so it's finally time to post this properly.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Sorry for the pain.


End file.
